


Masood's Questions

by Amuly



Category: EastEnders
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masood is looking to reconcile with his son, which leads to some awkward questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masood's Questions

Syed stepped into the café, glancing around for his father. It wasn't exactly neutral territory for this meeting, but it would do. He spotted him, sitting in the back corner by the partition. He was slouching, nibbling at his biscuit like he could somehow make himself invisible. Syed felt a surge of righteous indignation: why should his father look ashamed? Like he had something to fear from his friends and neighbors. Syed noted in some back corner of his mind that these little indignant thoughts were becoming more and more common as he spent more time with Christian.

As he slid into the seat across from his father, the older man jumped, as if he had not noticed Syed walk in. The two men shared tight, nervous smiles as they stared at each other through an awkward few moments.

“You look well,” Masood said, finally breaking the silence.

Syed smiled back, somewhat more easily than just a minute before. “I am.” There was another pause, which Syed filled by asking, “How are things at home? Mum and Kamil?”

Masood nodded. “Fine, fine. Everyone's healthy; no complaints.” He hesitated before continuing: “You didn't ask about Tamwar.” Syed winced, afraid he might have gotten his little brother in trouble. But his dad waved his hand, smiling. “I suspected as much. Tamwar was always the better man.”

Syed nodded. He wasn't about to argue that.

There was a moment's pause as Syed ordered a coffee, receiving it and stirring the cream in. The _clink clink_ of spoon against ceramic seemed loud, even among the ambient noise of the café.

“How are...” Syed watched as his dad struggled with the words, eyes looking anywhere but at him. “How are you and...Christian?”

“We're good.” Syed felt a warm thrill at his father's acknowledgement of their relationship. Some part of him had half-believed that this reconciliatory lunch was conditional: dependent upon him breaking it off with Christian yet again. Christian had even voiced his concerns that morning over breakfast, foot rubbing gently against Syed's ankle under his – _their_ – table. But Syed had reasserted his choice, telling Christian that they were together and nothing was going to change that.

The post-breakfast shag had probably reassured Christian more than Syed's words.

Syed brought his mind back to present, smiling broadly for the first time since he had walked into the café. “I'm helping Christian run his new personal training business. He deals with the fitness end of it, and I handle the business bits.” His smile still hadn't faded as he thought about Christian. “We make a great team.”

“Yeah...” Masood picked up his coffee and took a long sip, clearing his throat as he set the mug back down. “I suppose...You look...” Masood finally raised his eyes to look at Syed, expression softening as he did. “Well you look _happy_. Are you? Happy?”

“Yeah, dad.” Syed started to reach forward, to place his hand over his dad's, then arrested the movement and leaned back in his chair. They weren't at that point – not yet. Syed swallowed thickly. “We're in love.”

That evoked a reaction from Masood: he sighed and leaned forward, hands clasped tightly on the table. “But...how  _can_ you be? With a  _man_ ?” Grin falling from his face and brows furrowing, Syed opened his mouth to retort. But Masood was shaking his head, holding his fingers splayed as if to stop him. “That's not what I meant, Syed. I'm just...” Masood looked around the café, as if someone there might give him the answers. “I'm just trying to understand.”

Syed nodded, accepting that. “I just...know. Being with Christian is right. I've never wanted to be with anyone as much as I want to be with him.” There was a pause as Syed considered how much exactly he was willing to discuss with his dad. “Ever since I've been with him – properly with him – I've been  _so_ _happy_ . Even though I want to get things sorted with you and mum, being with Christian, seeing him every day...” Syed felt a ridiculous grin spread across his face, “it's how I want every day for the rest of my life to be.”

Masood nodded, glancing down at his coffee. The two men took simultaneous sips as Syed's words hung heavy in the air between them. Syed himself could barely believe he had revealed so much of his feelings toward Christian – feelings he was still at times afraid to put a name to, for fear that they'd be forced apart, yet again – to his father. His devout, Muslim father. 

But then Masood shook his head, curious little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can't pretend that I understand it, Syed. But you've always known your own mind, even when I've disagreed, and I must respect a man who is brave enough to act on his convictions. Still...a  _man_ .” Masood glanced up at Syed, half-laughing as he asked: “Are you  _sure_ ? About being...” Masood glanced around the café, before whispering the last word: “ _gay_ ?”

Syed laughed, glancing away from his father. “Yeah, dad. Pretty sure.” Syed couldn't help but think about Christian's arms around him, Christian inside of him, holding him together even as he caused him to fall apart. “I really wouldn't know how to explain what we did if I wasn't.”

Masood winced, and Syed worried that he might have pushed him too far, too fast. But then there was that little finger wave again, with Masood shaking his head in bafflement. “I believe I have a working understanding of the basics, and I'd really rather not know more than that, thanks.”

Syed laughed. “It's alright. I'd rather not have to explain it to you, if that's alright.”

“Still...” Masood looked Syed up and down, then leaned in conspiratorially. As he spoke, Syed leaned in with him in order to hear the whispered words. “That Christian, he's a strapping fellow. Before I knew you were with him, I would have thought he'd want to... _be the man_. Suppose I was wrong.”

Syed leapt away from his father, slamming back into his chair. His father thought  _he_ was “the man” in bed? With  _Christian_ ? Syed had to remind himself that his father didn't exactly have an extensive knowledge of gay sexual practices, and therefore his assumption that Christian would be the bottom wasn't  _completely_ ridiculous. Of course, now he just had to figure out how to break the news to his father that he wasn't even the  _gay_ man he wanted him to be.

Masood had started speaking again, holding one hand out in a placating gesture. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to pry. It just seems odd, is all. I thought those sorts of couples were always a real big man – like you or Christian – with one of those fey boys.” Masood shrugged happily. “But, I guess you can't really tell, can you? Still, never would have thought Christian-”

“He tops.”

The words were spoken so quietly, Syed could barely hear them himself. But his father certainly had heard something, if his sudden silence was any indicator.

Syed stirred his coffee needlessly, refusing to look at his father. Once again, he was destroying his mental ideal of his eldest son. It seemed to be the only thing Syed was any good at. First he steals money from the family, then he brings home some posh Muslim girl who everyone hates, then he goes bender, then, when his father is  _finally_ trying to accept  _that_ latest horror, he has to break it to him that he's not even a “man” in that. 

Not that Christian would view it that way. No, Christian had patiently shown him – multiple times – how definitions didn't need to be rigid, and how when two consenting adults were alone, there needn't be standards to live up to or roles to fill.  _“Remember what it's like when it's just you, and me, and nothing else matters.”_

“Sorry, I think I must have misheard...” Masood's voice trailed off, as Syed could _feel_ his eyes on him. “No, I didn't, did I? You... _let him_...”

“It's not like that!” Syed felt himself panicking, and forced himself to lower his voice, eyes cast down in shame. “We love each other. And what we...do...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I prefer it that way 'round.”

The sounds of the café seemed to swell in Syed's ears, until all he could were was the clatter of utensils over ceramic and voices chatting away between the early afternoon crowds. He was startled out of his panic by a light touch on his hand. He looked up, and was surprised to see his father's only reaction was to shake his head ruefully. “You must _really_ be gay.”

Smiling back tentatively, Syed chuckled. “I think no matter what way 'round Christian and I do it, I'd have to be gay, dad.”

Masood winced, shaking his head again. Gesturing for Syed to move closer, he leaned in. “Do you think he could lie to your mum about this? Pretend like you're...you know? It might help bring her 'round.”

Syed laughed, incredulous. He rolled his eyes, not even sure what the expression was aimed at: his father's assumptions, his mother's, the sheer ridiculousness of all the lies that circulated through his family. Still, as far as lies went: “Well, I'm not  _always_ ...sometimes we...switch.”

At that, Masood held his hands out, halting the conversation. “Enough! I don't need to know any more!” 

They laughed together, as Syed marveled at how good it felt to be able to laugh with his father again. As a comfortable silence fell between them, Masood sighed and checked his watch. “I best be on my way. Your mother needs nappies.”

Syed stood up as his father did. There was an awkward moment as Syed shifted, wondering if they should shake hands, or hug, or just nod to each other on their way out. Masood made the decision for him, pulling Syed into a tight hug. “Take care, son?”

Syed nodded, ignoring the wetness pricking at his eyes. “Give Kamil a kiss from his big brother for me.”

Syed let Masood leave first, waiting a minute and sipping the last of his coffee as he did. Then he stepped outside, breathing the chill air deep into his lungs. Suddenly it seemed like everything might work out. Eventually.

“How'd it go?”

Syed spun around, catching sight of Christian pushing himself off a wall on the side of the caf é . Syed smiled as Christian edged closer to him, taking his hand in his own. 

“Fine,” Syed said. Christian raised his eyebrows, waiting for more. Rolling his eyes, Syed elaborated. “He's coming to terms with us.” Blushing, Syed glanced down. “He...he thought I...topped.”

As Christian's laughter filled the street, he tugged on Syed's hand, heading in the direction of their flat. “And what exactly is funny about that?” He tried for indignation, though he knew the grin in his voice belied the righteous emotion. 

Christian pulled him into a one armed hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nothing, babe. Nothing at all.” Syed looked up as Christian pulled away. There was a gleam of lust in the other man's eyes. “Want to show me how not funny it is?” A grin spread across Syed's face as the two men hurried back to their flat, hand in hand. 

  



End file.
